


No Longer First

by chrisqzs



Series: Newsies College AU Series [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: College AU, Gen, M/M, Modern AU, pre-relationship but can be viewed as just friendship, trans!Racetrack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:00:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14495502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisqzs/pseuds/chrisqzs
Summary: Racetrack was always the first to class in high school. He liked being the first to class in high school. But now in college, someone has taken his title and he is having Issues.Can be seen as pre-relationship or as just the start of a friendship.





	No Longer First

In high school, Racetrack was always the first one to class; and he saw no reason to change his habits now that he was in college.

 

If you asked him  _ why _ he was always so early, he would shrug and, depending on who you were, provide a simple response. “I just can’t wait for class,” to teachers and other authority, usually accompanied by a cheeky grin, to an ominous “you’ll see” to his fellow students. But the truth is, he just had nothing better to do. Why spend his free time waiting outside, awkwardly standing alone in a hallway aggressively not making eye contact with fellow students, when instead he could  _ sit down _ and mentally prepare for class.

 

But now, on this bright Monday morning, Racetrack is no longer the first one to class.

 

He internally sighed at the stranger already sitting at the back of the classroom, reading a newspaper. Not only did this… jerk… steal his “first in class” title, but he had to steal his spot too.

 

Okay, he didn’t steal all of the back row seats, but it is not socially acceptable to sit right next to someone when there is literally every other seat available in the room.

 

Apparently Racetrack had been standing in the doorway for too long, because the stranger looked up from the paper and cocked an eyebrow, “you lost?”

 

“Is- is this intermediate macro?” Race asked, the stranger nodded and returned his attention to his newspaper. Race made his way to a seat in the second row and as he settled in.

 

The class came and went, and Race learned that the mysterious stranger who stole his M.O. was named Spot, and he was a sophomore Political Science major. As Race walked out of class, he swore he would beat this Spot to class.

  
  


He left a whole fifteen minutes early to beat Spot to class on Wednesday.

  
  


He did not beat Spot to class on Wednesday.

  
  


Racetrack tried again on Friday - giving himself twenty extra minutes - but he was still greeted by Spot reading the newspaper.

  
  


“Who the hell even reads newspapers? What is this, the 1900s?” Race exclaimed as he flopped onto his bed later that day. 

  
  


Finch didn’t even look up from her book as she said, “I mean…. We do get them for free. Maybe he just likes being informed?”

  
  


“Okay but why can’t he check his phone like a normal human being?” Race asked in a voice he would never admit was starting to sound whiny. This made Finch look up.

  
  


“You are very bothered by this,” she stated. “Why don’t you talk to him, like a ‘normal human being’?”

  
  


Race made a noise that was a mix between a whine and a laugh, glaring at Finch’s back while she continued to read her book. Finch, feeling her roommates eyes boring into her back, sighed and flipped her book closed and tossed it onto her desk.

  
  


“Alright, who is this guy anyways,” she said as she turned around to face Racetrack.

  
  


He made another grunting noise as he shrugged over-dramatically. “Fuck if I know, some other freshman dude. His name’s Spot, and he has a really thick accent- Mickey couldn’t understand him.”

  
  


“Mickey is not one to complain about having a hard to understand accent,” Finch and Race laughed but she stopped suddenly, remembering something. “Wait, Spot?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“Spot Conlon?”

  
  


“I don’t know, man, but how many people do you know who’s honest-to-God name is Spot.”

  
  


Finch rolled her eyes, “was he short?”

  
  


“Comedically so.”

  
  


Finch smiled and nodded.

 

“Yeah, that’s Conlon. He’s in my political science class -- he’s a cool dude, you should really talk to him,” she said turning back around to her book before adding, “if you can understand him.”

  
  


The following Monday, Race arrived to class thirty minutes early. 

 

He was still greeted by Spot in his chair, reading a newspaper.

  
  


“God damnit!” 

  
  


This got Spot’s attention. He looked up at Racetrack, raising an eyebrow.

  
  


“Why are you always here so early!?” he asked, “you’re always here so early, that’s  _ my thing _ and you took it.”

  
  


Spot didn’t move for a moment. He just sat there staring at Race, only mildly confused. 

  
  


“You…. you’re mad I’m here early?” Spot folded up the newspaper he was reading and slipped it into his backpack. Race nodded, a little deflated after hearing how ridiculous his anger sounded. There was a pregnant pause and the two boys just stared at each other for a moment before Spot pulled the chair out from next to him and gestured for Race to sit down, which he did.

  
  


“Mad isn’t the right word… Frustrated?” Race said as he settled into his new seat. “I was always the first to class in high school and I liked the quiet when I was alone.”

  
  


Spot hummed and nodded, “well the only reason I’m here is because I have a class in here the hour before this and I’m just a lazy asshole.”

  
  


“Well you got the asshole part right,” Race said with a smile, before quickly adding, “I’m just kidding! I’m sure you are a lovely little lad.”

  
  


“Watch it.” Race smiles and settles a little more into his new seat and next to his new friend.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at finchs-slingshot.tumblr.com!


End file.
